


Two Steps Farther From You

by zarrents



Series: Song Fics [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, im crying, infinity is about zarry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:45:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4855217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarrents/pseuds/zarrents
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every step Harry takes forward feels two steps farther away from Zayn. </p><p>based on One Direction's song Infinity</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Steps Farther From You

Harry remembers the day it happened.

March 25, 2015. The day Zayn decided he was done, that it wasn't "real" to him anymore. 

Harry cried, of course he did. He was devastated, confused, hurt, and every emotion in between. Zayn was his person to go to when he wasn't feeling like his usual, chirpy self. Zayn was the one he could have deep conversation with at 3 in the morning when everyone else on the tourbus was asleep. They did everything together. And when Zayn made the heart-shattering decision to leave it all behind, it felt like he was stuck in time but the world around him was going on as usual. That day, that moment, plays on a constant loop in Harry's head. He thinks about the way Zayn looked, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. Thinks about the way he sounded as his voice cracked when his eyes landed on Harry. The way he felt when he hugged each boy individually, holding onto Harry longer than he did with the others. It's been 6 months now, but that day is the clearest memory Harry's ever had. 

After that, Harry calls Zayn just about everyday. He wants to hear his voice, thick with sleep early in the morning or rough from just having smoked a joint. He wants to hear him breathe deeply when he dozes off during their late night calls. He wants to hear him laugh at one of Harry's infamously corny jokes, not because they're funny but because he loves Harry. This goes well for the first 2 months or so. Then Zayn gets busy. He's always in the studio or spending time with his family. Whenever he answers one of Harry's calls it lasts no longer than 5 minutes before he's rushing to hang up, breathing out a quick, "M'sorry Haz, but I've gotta go, love you." Harry never gets to reply, saying a low "I love you too" to the dead phone line. Every time they talk, Harry feels like they're just getting farther and farther away from each other, and it's the worst feeling he's had in his life. 

Harry can't get to sleep at night most of the time. He's had this problem for years on end, but Zayn used to help. He'd have Harry climb into his bunk that's barely big enough for one person let alone two. But they made it work, Harry basically on top of Zayn with his long legs bent awkwardly. Sometimes they'd go out into the "sitting area" of the bus and open the curtain covering the side window. Zayn would lay back with Harry curled up next to him and they'd count the stars together until they went to sleep, Zayn making sure Harry was asleep first before dozing off himself. On the days that they had off or the rare weekends thy'd spend with family, Harry would stay up well past midnight, not even slightly close to being drowsy. It was those times that Zayn would text or call just to remind him to count the stars, because he knew that Harry couldn't sleep without him. And Harry did, he counted the stars; he counted them every night without Zayn. He's going to keep counting until it doesn't hurt anymore, until he doesn't miss Zayn. He doesn't know how long it'll be until that happens. He doesn't know if it'll ever happen.

Harry hates this. He hates that he depends on someone so much that his heart aches just thinking about them. He hates that he was always there for Zayn and now he's alone. He hates that Zayn never gave them a meaningful, truthful reason for leaving. Of course his explanation to the boys was genuine, but there was something else there, Harry knew. And every night, while he's counting the countless stars, he wonders. Wonders what happened;if he could've done something to make Zayn stay. He asked Zayn once during one of their deeper phone calls in the early morning hours. "No, Harry.. It's- it wasn't you, mate. I told you. It's just..not real to me anymore you know? It doesn't make sense, I know but I promise..it's not your fault. Never could be your fault." And Harry accepted that answer, but he still couldn't help but feel like there was something in the way he answered. Something he wasn't telling Harry. He always lies awake, wondering if Zayn was okay, if he's adjusting to life without Harry. He hopes not. It's a selfish thing to think, but Harry wouldn't be able to stand it if Zayn could go about his life not giving Harry a passing thought. He doesn't know how many times he thinks about Zayn, too many to count probably. If someone could read Harry's mind, they'd see thousands, if not hundreds of thousand, of thoughts about him; his ever-changing hair, his abundant tattoos, the way his eyes and nose crinkled during a genuine smile, everything. 

Harry's more tired these days, and it's not due to his borderline insomnia. He's tired emotionally. Other people have brought it up, they say his eyes look dull, his hair more unruly than usual. Whenever he gets comments like that, he just laughs it off, sometimes throwing in a quick "life of a popstar, innit?" But he knows, he knows that his eyes don't have the same light they did five years ago. He thinks about Zayn then, how his eyes never seemed to be missing the sparkle he'd committed to memory. The hazel brown hue never seemed so beautiful before. Harry remembers how Zayn's eyes never hid anything, always showed how he felt. Whether they burned with anger after one of the boys had knocked his phone off the table or lit up with fondness as he watched Harry goofily dance around during a soundcheck, they always glowed with something. Harry's did too. Until Zayn left. He took Harry's shine and heart with him. He sometimes wonders if Zayn's eyes still twinkle like they used to, or if they dimmed to match his. Harry doesn't know how much longer he can keep it up, the facade, acting like he doesn't break down just about every day because Zayn's gone now. 

They get a small break in between, just a few days of down time. Naturally, Harry goes to LA, hoping to have some time alone. He tries to tell himself that he's not going out there because there's a chance that Zayn might be. But the more he does this, the more he knows it's not true. He gives Zayn a call, not surprised to hear the machine-generated voicemail message. He's been getting that a lot lately. "Hey Zayn, it's Harry. Uhm, I'm in LA and I heard- well not heard but I assumed you'd be here too. If you could just..can you call me? Miss your voice. I'll talk to you later." Harry ends the message before he can go too much into how much of a mess he's been because of him. While he waits for a call back, he walks around his spacious home for hours, wonders if it's too big for just him. It won't be just him forever, he likes to think. Before he lets his mind wander too deep, the shrill sound of the doorbell echoes through the halls. He makes his way to the front door, wondering who on the other side of it, seeing as he'd only given his address to his family and the boys. He opens the door without looking to see who'd rung the doorbell, which was a huge mistake, he realizes, once he sees who'd stood on his front porch. 

"Zayn."

"Hey Haz," Zayn replies coolly, not looking half as nervous as Harry feels. "Got your voicemail," he explains, walking into the house because he knows he's allowed, "is now a good time?" Harry doesn't know how to react because he's wearing a tank top at least 2 sizes too big paired with jogging shorts and a bun haphazardly placed at the top of his head while Zayn looks... well like he always does. Effortlessly perfect. He's got on some sort of designer shirt and his signature skin-tight black jeans, but instead of his usual long, jet black hair, he's opted for a shorter length dyed silver. He looks breathtaking; quite literally as Harry struggles to inhale and exhale properly in order to answer Zayn's simple question. "Yeah, course. Any time's a good time," Harry hopes he doesn't sound too eager, even though he is. He's been itching for some sort of contact with Zayn for months, and now he has it. They stand for a bit, Zayn looking at the decor as if he's never seen it before, and Harry looking at Zayn like he's never going to see him again in his life. Which is a possibility, with the amount of "cold-shoulder" Zayn's been giving him over the course of the last couple months. Zayn speaks up first, "Can't stay long. Got a few songs to write and record. Just thought I'd stop by though, haven't talked to you in a while." Harry feels a bit angered by that, Zayn making it seem like their lack of contact is Harry's fault. "Maybe we'd talk if you picked up your phone once in a while, yeah?" 

Zayn looks taken aback, he's not used to Harry being defensive around him. Harry almost feels guilty, almost apologizes for his outburst. But then he remembers. Remembers the night he stayed up counting the stars, the nights he stayed up worrying about Zayn, the nights he stayed up crying because one of his favorite people just decided to up and leave, not giving a single thought to how he might feel. As he remembers his infinite amount of sleepless nights, he feels the tears form behind his eyes, but wills them down because he can't let Zayn know that he's going crazy. He can't break down when Zayn's standing in front of him, acting as if nothing's changed between them, when the truth is everything's changed. So he waits, waits for Zayn to say something, anything. After a few minutes that feel like hours pass, he does. "Sorry, ok? I don't mean to. Ignore you, I mean. It's just all moving so fast and I've been so-" "Busy! I know Zayn, you tell me every chance you get. You know what though? I'm busy too. But you make time for the people you care about." Harry snaps for the second time since Zayn's been here, and he doesn't know when the last time he lost control of his emotions was. But it feels refreshing, to be able to say thing he hadn't been able to tell anyone else. The things he saved for the conversations between him and the night sky. 

Zayn nods slowly, taking in Harry's harsh but true words. "You're right. You're completely right. I haven't done anything to make this work and I'm sorry. I just don't know how to handle everything right now. It's a lot less than what I used to do, but it's harder when you're on your own." Harry feels an array of emotion at this. "You chose this, you chose to be alone, no one decided this for you. I call you every fucking day and get nothing in return. Every time we talk it's 'Hi Zayn. Oh you're busy? Bye Zayn.' and I hate it," Harry's aware that his voice is raising with every sentence but he doesn't care, he needs Zayn to get this. He needs him to understand that he's the one that left it all behind not the other way around. Zayn stares at him for half a minute before rubbing both tattooed hands over his face. "I need to- I'm gonna go. I've got to be in the studio in a few," Zayn explains, already turning towards the direction of the front door. 

"No!" Harry yells this time, the volume of his voice surprising Zayn. "No, you don't just get to leave when the blame's put on you. You've been avoiding this conversation for months and you're not leaving just because you're not ready to have it." Zayn checks his watch and shoots a wistful glance towards the front door. "Haz, m'really sorry but I can't do this now. Call me later though, yeah?" Zayn says this as he makes his way down the long hallway, Harry following not far behind. He lets out a deep sigh, never being one to argue too long. "Yeah..yeah sure whatever. Just make sure you pick up" Harry half-jokes. Zayn doesn't notice the saddened tone behind Harry's words though, too preoccupied with the lock on the door. He finally gets it open, after a small struggle. "Course I promise, just call me anytime before like 5, yeah? Talk to you soon, Haz. Love you!" He shouts the last bit as he closes Harry's door behind him. Harry stares at the closed door, hoping Zayn would walk back in, hoping they' sit on the couch with him while they talk until night time, hoping he'd count the stars with him. But none of that happens. Instead Harry walks into his living room and sits on the couch alone.

"I love you too," he says to Zayn, but like always, Zayn's already gone.


End file.
